


my arms are (not) made to hold you

by rev_eeriee



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe – Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Because this whole thing is an allusion to homophobia, Eventual Smut, Forbidden Love, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Mutual Pining, Non-Linear Narrative, Oh look at we have two alphas, Secret Relationships, What kind of angst can Rev pull out of his ass this time, alpha!Ouma, alpha!momota, find out on AO3
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:27:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21659776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rev_eeriee/pseuds/rev_eeriee
Summary: [ON INDEFINITE HIATUS]Ouma removed the lollipop from his lips and offered it to him, smiling knowingly as if he knew everything that was going on in the astronaut’s mind. Maybe he does. Momota moved his head and captured the candy in his mouth without missing a beat, as if this was perfectly normal.The candy tasted sweet and artificial. Nothing at all like cherries. Disgusting.Ouma’s smile was sweet and artificial, too. But for some reason, Momota didn’t think it’d taste just as bad. The thought sent a wave of dread through his stomach. He looked away and cracked the candy in his mouth.Freak of nature.---AKA. Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics AU. Momota knows it’s weird. He knows it’s not right. He knows it’s unnatural. But that’s alright. If Ouma doesn’t mind, they can be wrong together.(Or maybe, just maybe... it’s not wrong at all.)
Relationships: Momota Kaito/Ouma Kokichi
Comments: 28
Kudos: 204





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this a long, LOOOOONGG time ago. I've already finished writing three chapters, and I really wanted to post this when I finished the whole fic, but that doesn't seem to be happening. So instead of this rotting in my files, I decided to just post it, because other people might enjoy the stuff I have already written. Who knows? Maybe if I get feedback, it will help me get motivated enough to finish it.

**[06]** \- _it’s you, it’s you (it’s always been you)_

Cherry-flavored, today. 

Ouma was laying upside down on the couch. His head was pressed on the seat, feet moving in the air and thumping noiselessly against the backrest. He had his head in a position that Momota swore must be uncomfortable, but he kept it anyway, as he flipped through the channels of the TV absentmindedly.

Eyebrows, drawn. Forehead, creased. His tongue kept poking out from where it grazed his teeth, evidently frustrated. His removed the cherry-flavored lollipop he’s been sucking the past hour out of his mouth, staining his lips a faint red. 

“You know, people always act as if we alphas got it better.” 

Momota grunted. He buried his face on the bed not too far away, trying to figure which was worse—breathing through his nose and smelling _it,_ or through his mouth and practically _fucking tasting it._ He didn’t know how Ouma was doing that, he looked evidently more composed, through if the tent in his pants was anything to go by, he wasn’t doing any better. 

“I mean, have you heard the shit people say?” This was _ranty_ Ouma, _sassy_ Ouma, an indication that he too wasn’t feeling very well. His voice dropped to a falsetto, an obvious mockery to the society he was inexplicably (and vocally) fed up with. “ _Ouma-kun, you’re so lucky! Alphas are meant to lead, meant to protect, be strong, dominant, assertive, strong-willed_ and oh, this one is gold—people act as if being an alpha was the _best_ dynamic one could ever ask for— _fucking bullshit_.” The last two words were a hiss, before he gave the astronaut a half-hearted smirk. “Don’t you think so too, Momota-chan?” 

Momota groaned and mumbled to the pillow. “Who the fuck cares, shut up.” 

“Ah-ah-ah! You can’t tell me to shut up _in my own room,_ Momota-chan. You come here of your own free will, you get the premium Ouma Kokichi treatment!” Ouma beamed, but the strain in his face was evident in the way a sudden shudder wracked through his body. He suddenly covered his nose, mumbling profanities under his breath. “Stupid rooms, stupid ventilation, stupid heats!” he hissed, irritated. “Who _the hell_ is it this time?!” 

“It’s Shuuichi,” Momota replied dejectedly. Almost immediately, Ouma shot him a look of utter sympathy. “It’s a complete accident. It came in early, probably because he’s been spending so much time around me and Harumaki—” Ouma frowned at the mention of the female alpha. Momota just sighed as he rolled over. “ _Shit._ I feel bad. I feel _so bad,_ Ouma. He’s suffering and he’s in _pain,_ but he’s so hot and he smells _so good_ , and _god_ it’s so fucking tempting to just _—"_

“Too much information,” Ouma said, wrinkling his nose in distaste. His thoughts seem to wander for a moment, pupils dilating, and almost automatically Momota felt a growl rise up from his throat, the instinct to _mate_ and _breed_ and _knot_ and _claim_ an unmated omega before any alpha could— _before Ouma could—_ overcoming him for a few short seconds. The instinct was so intense he was worried he’s going to reach over and _punch him_ —at least until Ouma gave him a look and snapped. “Shut it.” 

Momota stopped his growling, but he didn’t look away. His alpha hormones were _demanding_ that he didn’t. It was then that he remembered Ouma’s complaints and realized that _yes,_ being an alpha _sucked._ Probably not as much as being an omega was (the memory of Saihara flushed and panting on the courtyard came unbidden, and he stifled a frustrated groan), but not being in full control of your emotions was almost as bad. To someone like him who never really had much restraint on violence... it was scary. 

Ouma glanced up at the vents of his room, the culprit of their misery. Iruma had recently fashioned their dorm building with a one-way ventilation system (efficient, energy-saving, _whatever_ ). It was a _terrible_ idea. Saihara’s scent was assaulting them in waves. The Supreme Leader frowned. “I can probably blackmail Souda-chan into fixing that.” 

Momota tried to ignore the _blackmail_ part. Spending time with the Supreme Leader made him aware just what he was capable of—which was mostly nothing put empty threats anyway. He understood Ouma better now. “Uh-huh?” 

Ouma reached over to his center table to grab his phone. “M’gonna text Gonta to turn the ventilation system off for now I guess.” His lilac eyes stared back at Momota, then to his— _well,_ raging boner—critically. “I mean, it’s not like we can get out without embarrassing the shit out of ourselves anyway.”

Momota covered his face and groaned. 

“In the meantime, try not to beat the shit out of me, Momota-chan? I mean, you _are_ the bigger, more muscular alpha, but _fuck you_ if you even think you can start shit with me and get out unscathed.” Ouma suddenly bit his tongue. “Shit. That’s hormones speaking. Ignore that. I _hate_ this.” He looked distressed. Sighing, the Supreme Leader popped the lollipop back in his mouth, and Momota had a feeling it’s to keep himself from saying anything else he didn’t want to. 

Ouma liked having control, Momota knew. Ouma hated it when he couldn’t _perform_ his reactions meticulously—perform, yes, because that’s what most of it was: an act. The Supreme Leader confessed multiple times how he would have _loved_ to be a beta instead. He didn’t want to be a part of this dynamic bullshit, but fate fucked him over and made him an alpha despite his lackluster physique. Personally, Momota really didn’t mind—Ouma was cute, and who the hell said alphas couldn’t be small anyways? What Ouma lacked in body, he made up with his grandiose personality. Momota thought it was actually pretty impressive.

It was also... a tad endearing. Momota swallowed hard. 

He tried not to think about the way Ouma would occasionally take the lollipop out of his mouth and lick at the tip, didn’t think about the way the sugar glazed his lips not unlike the saccharine coating on the candy. Momota was suddenly hyperaware of the way his arousal pressed against his pants painfully, the way the room had started smelling less like an omega in heat and more like two alphas stuck in a rut. 

Ouma’s phone pinged, and he murmured a “fucking finally” under his breath. Momota supposed Gokuhara already did as he was asked. Relief settled in his nerves as he closed his eyes, willing his hormones to settle, but his heart was starting to pound in his chest for a _different_ reason now, and to this day Momota still wasn’t sure how to feel about it. 

“The rut will pass, boners will die, _then_ we can get out. In the meantime, wanna watch Star Wars, Momota-chan?” Ouma offered as he righted himself on the couch. 

Momota opened his eyes to see the look on Ouma’s face, a gentleness that was rarely there. It spoke of strange things, of “weird” things, things like: _You’ve had a really bad day_ and _I’m so proud of you_ and _let me cheer you up_ and maybe, maybe! Maybe those three little words that Momota secretly wanted to hear. No, what was he thinking. That was weird. Odd. Unnatural.

Instead of replying, Momota simply grunted as he stood up and walked closer, sitting down beside him on the couch. He didn’t think much about the way Ouma leaned against him. He didn’t think much about the way Ouma sighed contentedly either, didn’t think about the way his neckerchief hung loosely on him, granting him the delectable view of the expanse of his neck, eyes fixating on the spot where his scent gland would be. 

Momota didn’t think. He raised his hand to touch the small strip of pale skin, rubbing it with the pad of his thumb. Ouma shivered as he looked up at him through his lashes, staring questioningly. 

“What?” Momota asked, defensively. 

Ouma pursed his lips for a moment. “Momota-chan is acting _weird_ again,” he mumbled through his lollipop, but even as he said that he still craned his neck to the side, giving him more access. 

Momota felt his mouth go bone-dry as he dug his thumb a little forcefully, reveling in the way Ouma’s breath hitched. There was something inherently beautiful and exciting in the way Ouma was here, sprawled against his body, craning his neck in a manner only omegas in submission would—and yet his lilac eyes shone with a slow flame... an invitation. A _challenge_. A taunt. 

Ouma wasn’t an omega. He’s an _alpha_.

Momota shouldn’t be feeling these weird flutters in his chest at the thought of possessing those lips. He _shouldn’t_ think that his smirk was attractive, that the way his eyes sparkled was beautiful, that the way he stared at him right now as if he wanted to _devour him_ was sending his body in an overdose of exhilaration. 

Ouma removed the lollipop from his lips and offered it to him, smiling knowingly as if he knew everything that was going on in the astronaut’s mind. Maybe he does. Momota moved his head and captured the candy in his mouth without missing a beat, as if this was perfectly normal. 

The candy tasted sweet and artificial. Nothing at all like cherries. Disgusting. 

Ouma’s smile was sweet and artificial, too. But for some reason, Momota didn’t think it’d taste just as bad. The thought sent a wave of dread through his stomach. He looked away and cracked the candy in his mouth. 

_Freak of nature._

* * *

**[01]** \- _first love never(?) dies_

Momota wasn’t sure when the attraction started. 

It has always been kinda _there_ since the day Ouma Kokichi walked into his life. It was probably the fact that it was an attraction that didn’t have _any_ connection to his instincts that intrigued him about it, honestly. He’s had a few crushes in the past, but that was mostly because they smelled so good he couldn’t resist. But Ouma... Ouma was different. Ouma disarmed him not with an alluring smell, but with a dazzling smile and a punch in the gut as he opted to snatch his galaxy jacket rather than the hand Momota had outstretched for him. 

“Nishishi!” The fucker had giggled obnoxiously. “Let me guess, you’re the Ultimate Astronaut! Or maybe Ultimate Fashion Disaster? Who the hell wears _those_ slippers?” Even as he said that, he still wore the jacket proudly as if it was his own. “Your jacket is pretty cool though, it doesn’t suit you.” 

Momota had scowled. He was trying to be friendly, dammit, but the guy was quick to get on his nerves. “Hey! Give that back!” 

“Only if you catch me!”

The day they first met they ended up running along the deserted halls of Hope’s Peak in a game of chase, Momota grumbling in irritation as Ouma laughed in glee, and for the first time in a long while Momota felt exhilaration fill his gut at the prospect of being _challenged_ —he was tall and muscular and every bit of a _big bad alpha_ that people could just meet his gaze and immediately cower in fright, but here this little shit was, blowing him a raspberry every time he was ahead, snickering at the look of exasperation on his face—it was refreshing _._ It was exciting. It was _fun._

It wasn’t nearly as fun when they both got reprimanded for skipping the general assembly (class attendance were optional, but assemblies were mandatory), but one look at the Supreme Leader as he sat _supremely_ on his seat while chewing gum obnoxiously made the astronaut realize that the guy was a shameless rebel—he _totally_ did that on purpose. Ouma Kokichi doesn’t bend to people’s expectations, he lives by his own rules and does his own thing. Momota couldn’t help but wonder what his dynamic would be, since the guy claimed to be a late bloomer. He supposed that would be interesting to find out. 

That night, as Momota unpacked his stuff into his new dorm room, he found a familiar bottle of medication that he hasn’t used in a while. He glanced at the expiration date—still good. He poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue as he considered whether or not he should throw it out. 

He placed it on his nightstand instead, and for a while, he had forgotten about it. Maybe if he had thrown it out that night, things would have never escalated. The first _genuine_ attraction he had would never have been fed and festered, not to this extent.

A bottle of scent blockers wrote their story. 

* * *

**[07]** \- _what we don’t do, what we don’t say_

 _Grape,_ Momota noted. Ouma’s lips were stained purple. Momota’s were chapped and dry. 

On the other end of the hallway, the Supreme Leader was smirking as he talked to a frowning upperclassman—the Ultimate Mechanic, Momota recognized. He supposed those vents were going to be fixed soon, which was good. Saihara was still notably absent, and while Momota was pretty sure he must’ve already gotten some heat suppressants in him, the astronaut wasn’t too keen on the idea of getting a hit of his scent yet again. 

Being in a rut without relief was _exhausting._

Ouma finally smiled, satisfied. As soon as he walked over back to their classroom, their gazes met—sharp magenta to soft lilac, and Ouma immediately pulled _another_ grape-flavored lollipop from his pocket and stuck it in his mouth.

_“Why do you always eat those shitty lollipops when you’re around me?”_

_“Huh? I don’t know what you’re talking about, Momo-chan.”_

Ouma knew what he was talking about, but Momota knew the answer to his own question anyway. Neither of them say anything about it. Because it’s easier when they don’t mention it. It’s easier when they pretend they were nothing but friends. 

Easier to pretend that when Saihara’s scent hit Momota like a wave and the hormones started screaming for him to claim the omega, it wasn’t Ouma’s face that flashed in his mind. Easier to pretend that when Ouma opened the door last night to see Momota in front of his room, panting and desperate, he didn’t open the door wider, as if to welcome him home. 

( _Shuuichi smells_ so fucking good _and I want him,_ god _I want him, but it’s you, it’s you, it’s always been you—)_

Momota took a deep breath. Ouma’s scent was nowhere to be found, which was a shame. Momota didn’t think he smelled bad at all. If he simply let his pheromones out, half the omegas in Hopes Peak would probably be begging to be claimed by him. But that notion probably had a _lot_ of bias in it. Momota just thought he smelled... pretty _good_.

 _Freak of nat—_ **_shut the fuck up._ **

He clenched his fists. It didn’t go unnoticed. Ouma skipped over and wedged his finger forcefully between his, making a shit-eating grin that he knew Momota secretly liked. As Momota loosened his fist, the Supreme Leader hummed, intertwining their fingers together, and Momota’s heart skipped a beat, elated that this was _not_ a connection their biology set for them, but something they made together. 

Ouma chatted away as they walked back to their classroom. They bantered, they laughed—Ouma pissed him off and he pissed the Supreme Leader back—all while their hands were clasped together familiarly. As soon as their classmates were in sight, Ouma pulled away and adjusted his scarf, and Momota looked away and pretended the loss of contact didn’t disappoint him. 

Pretending was routine now. It was easier. 

(It was breaking his heart.)

* * *

**[02]** \- _liar, liar, pants on fi—re_

If Momota was an honest man, he’d just suck it up and admit to himself that he had a thing for Ouma Kokichi. But Momota was _not_ an honest man, no matter how good he was at convincing people otherwise.

(Ouma was good at catching liars. He always has been. Sometimes their eyes would meet and the Supreme Leader would suck his lower lip between his teeth and smile cheekily before doing something to either piss him off or irritate him. Pushing him away, so to speak. It was only later that Momota realized he was doing it on purpose. Because Ouma knew, he knew, he _knew_ they were spinning and they were falling and it wasn’t going to be easy.)

Momota liked Ouma. He liked him a lot. While everyone else were compliant and friendly and supportive, Ouma was a force to be reckoned with, challenging him every step of the way, the rival he never knew he wanted. It didn’t matter if it was in a takoyaki eating contest or a class presentation or a video game—Ouma was _always_ there to beat his ass and it was as fun as it was _infuriating._

Ouma had made himself an infamous reputation in Hopes Peak. Most of their classmates weren’t very fond of him, but Momota found himself gravitating towards him anyway, for reasons unknown. He’s always one for following his gut, so he figured: hey, _maybe_ when Ouma develops his dynamic, he could actually _try_ to make a move on him. Ouma’s lack of scent had always been an interesting topic in their class, one that the Supreme Leader himself wasn’t very fond of speculating about. But almost everyone agreed he’d probably be a beta (his appearance didn’t really scream alpha, the same way his personality didn’t hit anyone as omega) and while that was a shame, Momota can roll with that. He didn’t really like the thought of Ouma being an omega anyways, it just didn’t feel right. 

So he waited, eager to find out. He waited... and waited. 

Their first year passed by without a hitch, and he started getting impatient. 

“Don’t you ever get worried about it?” Momota asked the Supreme Leader, once. “I mean, we’re already on our second year and you’re still...” 

“Who cares?” Ouma had replied, rolling his eyes. “I wish I _never_ get my dynamic.” 

Momota pursed his lips. Back then, he had been genuinely worried for Ouma—not developing your dynamic so late in puberty was a matter of legitimate medical concern—but the boy waved it off like it was nothing. 

Ouma was a good liar. 

* * *

**[video001.mp4]**

_“Okay, so what the fuck are you two shitstains doing in my lab?”_

_The camera shook slightly, as if it was placed in someone’s clumsy hands. The strawberry blonde-haired inventor was right in the frame, frowning at someone behind the camera, looking pissed-off for being disturbed._

_“Ah, I’m sorry, Iruma-san,” a timid voice replied. Nervous, unsettled. “We we’re just… uh…”_

_“Helping Shinguuji-san,” another voice supplied, but this one sounded calmer and more collected. “The exams are coming up, and he needed help for his presentation. Would you mind answering a few questions?”_

_“Hah?” the inventor frowned as she placed her hands on her hips. Finally, she huffed. “Fine. But make it quick. My time is precious, you know!”_

_“Of course.” A tense silence, a rustle of papers. “What is your opinion on same-dynamic couples?”_

_Iruma narrowed her eyes suspiciously, before she tossed her hair back and cackled. “Fucking kinky-ass weirdos, that’s what! Do they even exist?!”_

**[PAUSE]**

Would you like to delete? 

**[YES]** [NO] 


	2. Chapter 2

**[03]** \- _inch by inch; we move closer_

The night was nice and cool and silent, perfect for a nighttime jog around the campus grounds. Their second year midterms were coming, and his two sidekicks were already busy preparing stuff for one of their infamous Main Course exams— Saihara with a particularly hard case he was trying to crack with the 78-A’s Ultimate Detective, and Harukawa with... Momota didn’t even want to think about it. The Ultimate Astronaut himself was excited for what he had in store for the panel of judges—something he was working on with Iidabashi and Iruma for a more advanced and effective space drone. 

Everyone else was either stressed or hyped up for the exams. Momota probably wouldn’t have noticed it if he wasn’t paying such close attention, but even Ouma looked chirpy and upbeat recently. He wondered what kind of shit he was going to pull this time. What did the “Ultimate Supreme Leader” title even _mean?_ All Momota knew was that the best hint they had about Ouma’s rumored ‘shadow organization’ was a bunch of masked kids that Momota spotted running out of the nearby computer room after Ouma successfully made a show of hacking the television networks and exposing a corrupt trustee’s dirty secrets along with censored footage of how he cheated on his wife with three different women—a trustee that, to the Supreme Leader’s sadistic glee, was staring at him red-faced in the panel of judges, nearly breaking the pencil on his tensed fingers.

Kirigiri Jin, the Headmaster, handled the situation with a face as hard as stone, but when he thought nobody was looking, Momota thought he saw him slip an amused smile. 

Everyone in 78-B was worried that Ouma finally did it, that he had _finally_ done something so shocking and inappropriate that he was going to get expelled. It wasn’t unheard of, _especially_ when all of them knew about how three of their upperclassmen were expelled on an explosive incident last year, with the 77-B’s Ultimate Lucky Student still absent due to his suspension. The Headmaster’s face was grim when he told Ouma to meet him in his office, and when the Supreme Leader got out with a thoughtful look on his face, Momota couldn’t help but sidle close to him and ask. 

“Hey, so... how did it go?” 

Ouma had been silent for a moment as he counted his steps, before he smiled widely, _proudly._ “I got an A.” 

And _goddamn,_ was Momota impressed. 

“You know, Ouma, you’re like a hero. A vigilante, maybe.” Momota chuckled, a little jokingly.

The flush that crept up Ouma’s cheeks was _extremely satisfying._ Even months later, the memory still made Momota smile. 

He liked reminiscing about these moments in introspective times like these, contemplating about all the things he admired about one Ouma Kokichi. But it was around that time that he turned around the corner, and he caught a whiff of a strong, unfamiliar alpha. He hasn’t smelled them before, so they must be an _intruder,_ most likely. He immediately tensed.

“What the fuck,” Momota murmured under his breath. 

* * *

**[00]**

The boy showed his dynamic when he was thirteen. 

He was immediately pleased— he was an alpha! An _alpha!_ He was on top of the world. Nobody could stop him! He’s going to fulfill his dreams and be the _best_ alpha ever! He could protect _baa-chan_ when people are being _mean,_ help _jii-chan_ be the head of the family—ooh! He’d find a beautiful omega and be the best mate ever too! But maybe it’s too soon to think about that. The thought was making him blush in embarrassment.

Being an alpha was fun and great and _exciting,_ at least until he was cornered by a group of highschool bullies eager to beat up a middle-school alpha for the sake of a power trip. 

Most of them were betas, and they cowered in his scent, sure, but they were still bigger and _stronger_ and **_fuck_ ** _those punches hurt—_

And some of them were alphas. Every time before they close in, the boy could catch a whiff of their sickly sweet smell, and he just _knew_ that was how they find him, over and over again after school— 

“Hey, baa-chan, is there a way to hide your scent?” the boy asked as he rummaged through their medical cabinets, glancing at the mirror and letting out a grateful breath that his face didn’t get much damage. As long as the punches and kicks and blows were kept to his arms and legs and body, he could hide it underneath his clothes and not worry his grandparents any more than necessary. 

His grandparents were both betas, and his _baa-chan_ only looked confused. “Huh... I don’t know, Kaito, we didn’t really have those medicines and stuff back in our time... Why? Is something the matter, dear?” 

The boy chewed the inside of his cheek. He supposed he could ask the school nurse tomorrow.

“Nah. Just... never mind.” 

* * *

**[03]** \- _inch by inch; we move closer (cont.)_

This felt like a familiar scenario. So familiar that Momota instinctively step back. As soon as he did so, he felt _stupid_ . Because Momota was bigger now, he could _defend himself_ better now, and whoever this intruding alpha was, they were fucking stupid to think they could mess in his _turf._

(Not exactly his turf, as there are other alphas in here, too. But sometimes it felt as if 78-B was his own pack and he’s _fiercely protective_ of them all.)

That was when he spotted a figure in black darting towards their class’s dorm building and _fuck no, you shitty fuck, you are_ **_not_ ** _going in there—_

Momota immediately pranced toward the figure, following him closely, but the figure seemed to be distracted, rummaging into the bushes near their area for some strange reason, as if looking for something. As soon as Momota was within reach he _tackled_ the figure and they yelped, crashing to the ground. The black cape they had around their head were displaced from where it covered their face, and it was only when Momota was met with outraged lilac eyes did he realize who it was he tackled. 

“ _Shit,_ get off of me, you stupid astronaut!” 

Momota blinked and stared down incredulously. He stuttered, “O-Ouma?” 

The smell of distress. Ouma held his checkered scarf tighter against his neck as if it would keep his scent glands from working overtime. He looked panicked for a moment, before his expression settled into grim determination. 

“You’re an alpha,” Momota muttered in sudden realization. At the time the implications hadn’t hit him yet, but the look Ouma shot him was chilling in its intensity, and under the moonlight, Momota had the fleeting thought that he was utterly beautiful. 

The Supreme Leader looked irritated when he _hissed_ . “Tell anyone and _I’ll tear you apart._ ” 

It was not only a threat, but a promise. Knowing Ouma, Momota had no doubt that he could do just that, and despite his own hormones going crazy at the _need_ to assert his own dominance, he nodded. 

Ouma didn’t seem to expect that. He gave Momota a doubtful look. 

“What are you doing out here?” Momota asked instead. He leaned closer and got another whiff of Ouma’s scent—yep, _definitely_ an alpha. And not a newly-bloomed one, either. His scent was steady, unwavering, lacking all the inconsistency that “young” alphas tend to have. Ouma wasn’t a late-bloomer, he couldn’t be. Momota’s eyes widened. 

“I use scent blockers,” Ouma suddenly blurted. Momota frowned. His question was written on his face: _why?_ Ouma scowled. “None of your business. Get off of me already! I need to find something!”

 _Sassy._ Momota swallowed hard, tempted to glare and growl. His inner alpha didn’t like being pushed around. But despite everything, he knew Ouma was just shaken up, so he let him go. Ouma sat up as he started massaging his wrists, and Momota only realized then how tightly he’s been holding him. His expression faltered. 

“Sorry,” he murmured. Ouma suddenly burst out laughing. Momota frowned, feeling mocked. “What?” 

“You go from looking like you want to hit me one moment to apologizing the next.” Ouma giggled. Him being an alpha didn’t make those giggles sound any less melodic. Oh shit. Oh _shit_ . Oh shit oh shit oh _shit_ — “Dynamics are weird, aren’t they? They make people go crazy.”

Momota looked away, uncertain. “I... I guess.” He frowned as Ouma proceeded to ignore him, continuing his search through the nearby bushes. Momota felt dumb as he tried to process the information he just got—Ouma was an alpha. An _alpha._ He’s been crushing on a fucking _alpha._

That was... weird. _Really_ weird. Sure, these days Alpha/Beta and Beta/Omega relationships have become rather common, but he had never really heard of same dynamic couples (betas excluded)—given their natures, it just doesn’t really work. An alpha’s need to dominate and an omega’s need to submit were just way too strong _—it never works._ They would _never_ work. Not to mention the stigma and the strangeness of it all— _weird._ It was just so _weird._ But... but hey! That’s fine! He didn’t know about Ouma’s dynamic back then. It’s totally okay to develop a bit of a crush on him. Now that he _does_ know, now that he was aware, surely these weird feelings will eventually disappear, right? 

_Right?_

Right. _Right._ Momota just had to wait. Eventually... eventually, he’ll get over this. It’s just a weird phase. 

Ouma glanced at him over his shoulder, looking a tad bit wary that Momota was just standing there, staring at him, dumbly. 

A sudden urge to do something and be productive hit Momota. “I’ll...” he hesitated as he walked closer beside him. “I’ll help you look. What did you lose?” 

Ouma looked away and continued rummaging. “The...” he cleared his throat. “The bottle. Of the stuff.”

 _Oh._ Momota realized he had been stupid. If Ouma was out of his room in the middle of the night with his scent out, desperately looking for _something_ despite obviously not wanting his dynamic to be found out, it must have been his scent blockers. It was at that moment that Momota remembered his own bottle in his room, remembered that it was still pretty good to go, realizing that the look of distress on Ouma’s face really bothered the shit out of him, and he wanted it gone as soon as possible.

“Hey, so I...” Momota cleared his throat. “I kinda have some in my room. You should drink some soon maybe, because...” he wrinkled his nose. “You kinda reek, Ouma. Soon enough the others would notice your scent, they’d come investigate.” He smiled half-heartedly. “You know how determined Saihara is when he tries.” 

Ouma’s expression was blanked as he stared at him. He frowned. “Why do you have scent blockers?” 

Suddenly, Momota felt uncomfortable. He chuckled as he scratched the back of his head. “Does... does it matter? Why do _you_ use them?” 

For the first time that night, Ouma’s lips broke into a faint smile, throwing him back his answer. “Does it matter?” 

They stared at each other, before chuckling the tension out of their systems. Ouma’s eyes shone with gratefulness as he held onto his arm. It was his usual brand of clinginess, but the wave of alpha pheromones that hit Momota square on the face this time made him dizzy. He was just _too_ close. It was making Momota’s heart pound, and he didn’t like it. 

_Fuck..._

“Lead the way, Momo-chan!” Ouma giggled, the cheerfulness masking the tremble in his tone. As enthusiastic as he was to put on his usual demeanor, the tapping of his foot betrayed his impatience. “Let’s go! I’d _really like it_ if we get this over with.” 

... _fuck._

“You can stay in my room until the pills work.” Momota offered. Ouma’s hands tightened just a little bit. That was a bad, bad idea, maybe. But a part of Momota wanted to revel in his scent, just for a little while longer. 

Ouma looked up, meeting his eyes. Momota wondered what his expression looked like, because for a moment, Ouma’s eyes widened, fascinated. His pink lips parted, and Momota’s eyes dropped down towards it, transfixed. 

“Sure.” 

* * *

**[04]**

The next morning, Momota couldn’t look at Ouma in the eyes. 

The next morning, Ouma started putting lollipops in his mouth whenever Momota was near. 

The next morning, Momota knew he fucked up. _Badly._

And yet… he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. 

* * *

**[video002.mp4]**

_“An interview, you say?” the Ultimate Maid asked. She looked thoughtful for a moment as she placed her hands in front of her but eventually, she smiled politely. “I am not opposed. If this is to help my fellow classmate, I am willing to help out however I can.”_

_The camera was steady this time. One could hear the relief from the one filming the video, as they replied. “Thank you, Toujou-san! Well, ah… in essence, we really just have one question to ask…”_

_“What is your opinion on same-dynamic couples?” another voice asked from behind the camera, confidently. Toujou blinked in surprise at the question, mulling it over with a faint frown on her face. Finally, she replied, her tone disapproving._

_“Well… same dynamic couples are… unconventional. Counter-intuitive and unnecessary. Two alphas will only compete with aggression until they ruin each other, while two omegas will never truly be content without anyone to submit to, as far as studies have shown. Furthermore, same-dynamic couples limit the fertility of our already frankly underpopulated country. It wouldn’t be wise to encourage such unnatural behavior, wouldn’t you agree?”_

_Hoshi, who had been eating in the corner of the dining hall, seem to find interest in their little interview. The short man walked over as he pulled out of his mouth his candy cigarette, frowning at Toujou’s words. “Now wait just a minute, Toujou. You can’t call something unnatural just because it’s rare. If it happens in nature, then it’s natural. Simple as that.”_

_Toujou frowned, as if mulling that idea over. In the end, she disagreed. "Hoshi-san, forgive my insolence, but I understand that you've been around people who are less than appropriate as role models for a good chunk of your life."_

_Hoshi stiffened, evidently unimpressed by the subtle jab at his prison life. He bit at his candy and glared at the maid. "Funny enough, it's those people who actually seem to understand. They don't have the narrow-mindedness of people who have been born privileged, unlike you."_

_Toujou's expression darkened. The video abruptly cut out._

**[PAUSE]**

View next video? 

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	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on lockdown and very, very bored. Stay at home, kids, drink your vitamins, sanitize your hands, stay safe! Sorry for sporadic updates, but what can we do. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Please comment if you can! I'm craving human interaction. TwT
> 
> Happy Birthday Kaito! My wonderful son, I have been blessed by your existence you give light in my bleak life. I humbly offer this chapter to you.

**[05]** - _ game: start. _

It was Ouma who started the game. 

The rules went like this: Ouma would  _ finally _ ditch the lollipop so they could kiss. And they did. They  _ kissed. _ And they kissed some more. They kissed until the breaths were sucked out of their lungs, until the muffled moans and groans make up sounds that  _ almost  _ mean things: things that say  _ I love you, I need you, I want you to be mine  _ without actual words leaving their swollen lips. It was magic. And like magic, once they pull back the spell is broken, and they would stand there staring at the stars in each other’s eyes, before they would both look away as if nothing had happened. 

The loser is the first one who talks about it. 

(Momota didn’t know if he got the rules right, but that’s what seemed to be happening at the moment. Ouma almost lost once or twice, before his lilac eyes would harden with resolve and purpose. The Supreme Leader looked more vulnerable when he’s being kissed, but Momota didn’t think he was even allowed to  _ think _ about it. It must have been cheating. But sometimes when the night is silent and lonely and Momota was lying awake and alone in his room, he’d cheat and cheat and cheat until he was panting and he was gasping and he was drowning in bliss, wondering in the back of his head if maybe, Ouma was a cheater, too.)

Momota knew it was wrong. Not because they were both alphas or some shit, not really—but because they promised to each other they wouldn’t let this relationship get too far.  _ Friends, _ Ouma had proposed.  _ Friends,  _ Momota agreed—but what kind of friendship involves kissing in the shadows of empty classrooms and dark closets, humming and moaning and panting against each other’s lips? Momota wasn’t stupid. Ouma wasn’t, either. But neither of them wanted to address it. Neither of them wanted to  _ admit  _ it—because once they do, they knew things would only get messier. 

It was in the moments when they were alone inside each other’s rooms, sitting inches from each other as they did their homework, that Momota always finds his hand crawling towards Ouma’s. Fleeting touches that eventually ends up in fingers intertwining, stolen gazes over each other’s books. They would once in a while forget their work, forget the ruse, and just end up staring deep into each other’s eyes. Momota would stammer. Ouma would giggle. And then he’d say: 

“Momota-chan, you’re so weird.” A finger trailing up Momota’s arm. 

“Shut up.” Lips breaking into smiles.

“Weird, weird, weird~” Ouma would sing. “It’s okay. I like weird.” 

_ If you say a word enough times, it’ll lose its meaning. _

And then the game starts again. Momota would let Ouma do weird things to him. Ouma would let Momota do weird things to him, too. When they’re together, it almost felt like it was okay. They can be  _ weird  _ together. 

(They can be  _ wrong _ together.)

It’s okay if they could only do it behind closed doors. It’s okay if they could only be affectionate when nobody’s looking. It’s okay if Momota can never own Ouma. It’s okay if Ouma can never own him back. 

(It’s  _ not  _ okay.) 

Momota would choke a sob. Ouma would slap him. And then he’d pull him close as if pulled by some sort of gravity, before sense finally fills back those lilac eyes, like a dreamer slowly waking into reality. 

“Oops,” Ouma would say, expression blanking. “Got carried away again.” 

He would pull back, placing his lollipop into his mouth. Momota would look away. 

And they’d continued doing their homework in silence. 

* * *

**[03]** \-  _ inch by inch; we move closer (cont.) _

As soon as he popped the scent-blockers into his mouth, Ouma grinned. “Wow, Momo-chan! You really saved my ass this time!” 

Momota frowned, unsure what kind of saving Ouma’s ass even needed in the first place. Saving from  _ what? _ Having his impressive, confident alpha scent found out by the rest of the student body? Momota didn’t know what was up with the little leader, why he seemed very desperate to keep his dynamic a secret. If he was an omega, Momota could understand—an omega with an “Ultimate Supreme Leader” talent just kinda sounded weird, after all, as omegas were natural followers. An alpha on the other hand—wasn’t that just perfect for the leader position? So why did Ouma feel like he needed to hide it? Unless, like the younger Momota, he was worried about being beaten up because of his dynamic. Despite being an alpha, that small stature couldn’t be good for self-defense. 

But still… come on! Didn’t Ouma trust them by now? His own classmates, as well as their other schoolmates? Momota himself had stopped taking blockers because he  _ knew  _ he was safe here in Hope’s Peak, he knew nobody here was  _ that  _ shitty, like the kids back in his old town. Why did Ouma feel the need to protect himself like this? It didn’t make any sense. 

The confusion must have been evident on his face, because after a while of sticking around waiting for the pills to kick in, pretending he found the scaled models of spaceships in Momota’s shelf interesting, Ouma finally sighed. 

“Okay, shoot. You have questions? Ask away,” the Supreme Leader encouraged. Momota’s eyes widened. He didn’t find any merit in pretending he wasn’t burning in curiosity, so he gave in. 

“Why?” 

He didn’t need to expand on the question. Just a simply asking  _ why  _ was enough. Ouma understood already what he meant. Despite that, however, he sure took his time contemplating his answer. He sat in one of the couches in Momota’s room, crossing his legs not unlike the way he did in the Headmaster’s office back on the day they met—looking so regal that Momota found his mouth going dry. 

_ He’s not hot,  _ he told himself, desperate now.  _ Please stop.  _

“What was your first thought when you found out I’m an alpha?” Ouma asked. 

Momota’s first thought was literally  _ ‘oh my god please don’t let it be true I can’t be crushing on an alpha’  _ so he decided it was prudent to settle on his second one. “Uhh… why are you hiding it? It doesn’t make sense? I mean… it suits your talent and all! Ultimate Supreme Leader! And I know this is a weird thing to say, but Ouma—you smell  _ good.  _ Like… like—confidence, ambition, self-assuredness—with a scent like that you wouldn’t have any problems collecting followers, would you? Even cute and small as you are, it wouldn’t matter…” Momota trailed off, realization hitting. “...  _ Oh.”  _

“Oh, indeed.” Ouma smiled wryly. “Momota-chan, would you feel good if someone implied you only reached your accomplishments  _ because  _ you’re an alpha? Because that would be how it is to me. Once the tale of me being an alpha comes out, everyone would just assume that my success was not because of hard work, but luck. And I hate that. Because I fought tooth and nail to get where I am right now. My followers are loyal not because I have some natural-born leadership or some generic alpha trait like that, but because I worked hard to get their trust and devotion.” His lilac eyes were burning now, with passion that left Momota speechless. “I deserve more than people assuming I was just born lucky. I  _ deserve  _ to be fully recognized. And if the only way to get that is hiding away my dynamic, even if it has to be for as long as I live—then that’s a small price to pay.” 

Momota stared at him, unsure if he was hearing him correctly. “You’re willing to go through all that length… just to make sure people recognized your talent? Ouma, that’s…” he ran his hand through his hair. “That’s  _ crazy. _ ” 

“I never wanted to be alpha to begin with,” Ouma insisted, meeting Momota’s gaze. “I never wanted to be part of this dynamic bullshit, and everything that comes with it. You have to understand, Momo-chan. The world is very…  _ constricting,  _ for me. If I can live my life away from all that mess, I—" he paused, looking away. His eyes held a flash of bitterness as he mumbled. "Not that you'd understand. Someone like you, the  _ perfect  _ alpha Momota-chan— big and strong and everything anyone could ever ask for—” 

Momota shoulders stiffened indignantly. He remembered the punches and the kicks and the taunts and the hits— remembered the days of hiding his injuries from his grandparents because they would surely worry— the world was not only constricting to one Ouma Kokichi. He clenched his fists. “Hey! It’s not like I like being an alpha,  _ either _ !”

Ouma looked caught off guard by his sudden, passionate response. Lilac eyes met magenta as they considered each other. Momota’s fist was shaking. Ouma hesitated, his eyes glancing at the scent blockers sitting on Momota’s bedside. A quick, unknown emotion flitted on his face, one that almost looked  _ ashamed, _ but he was already turning away, voice carefree as ever. “Ah, I see! So Momota-chan is just the same as me,” he replied, interlacing his hands behind his back. He was silent for a long moment, but finally, he added. “Though to tell you the truth, even I wish Momota-chan wasn’t an alpha, either.” 

Momota was confused.  _ What?  _ A part of him couldn’t help but roll the words around over and in his head, both unsure and hopeful of what Ouma was suddenly going on about. He crushed that part firmly underneath his foot. There are many reasons why Ouma would not want Momota to be an alpha. Momota was reading too much into it; it didn’t mean jack shit. 

“W-What are you even—” Momota started, but Ouma cut him off. 

“I didn’t want Momota-chan to be an alpha, too. Never have, since we met. Do you want to know why?” Ouma was still continuing, venturing— those lilac eyes peeking back towards Momota with an expression that was bordering on vulnerable. Momota swallowed hard and took a step back. Ouma’s expression softened into understanding.

“You’re scared,” Ouma murmured, turning back to face him, tilting his head. “Why?” 

Why.  _ Why?  _

_ Because I’m not supposed to catch feelings for you. Because you’re an alpha, and I’m an alpha, and we’ll never work but  _ god  _ you smell good, you smell really good even though I’m not supposed to like it, even though I’m not supposed to want you—  _

Ouma took a step closer. Momota felt his mouth go dry. Ouma’s scent was starting to overwhelm him now, especially with the small alpha staring at him intently  _ like that.  _ It makes him feel nervous and hot, and without meaning to, a low growl started up inside his throat, warning Ouma not to get any closer. 

(But Momota doesn’t want that. He wanted Ouma closer, so much  _ closer—)  _

“Shut it,” Ouma snapped. The words hit Momota like a command in the gut, and suddenly all he wanted was to keen and stand down, bare his neck to this powerful alpha despite the fact that he was probably bigger. Stronger. More powerful. Ouma was just… he’s just— 

That was when the words first made an appearance in Momota’s head. Three words, intrusively telling him:  _ freak of nature.  _ The corner of his eyes suddenly felt hot. What was happening to him. Of all people… why  _ him?  _

“You’re a mess,” Ouma laughed, but the cadence to it was wrong. It sounded broken, filled with pity not only for Momota but for himself as well. For the two of them. 

There was no point in trying to pretend they both didn’t know it. 

Momota caught Ouma by his scarf and pulled him in for a kiss. He should be horrified. He was terrified. But the way Ouma opened up eagerly to meet his kiss, the way those lips coaxed the stiffness out of his own trembling lips— there was a piece of heaven in that moment that Momota had never found anywhere else before. A piece of heaven… and a piece of hell. A sense of wonder and freedom and dread and doom all twisted together in a gnarled lump of frankensteined emotions— it was just  _ too much,  _ way too much, for Momota to handle. 

When their lips parted, Momota was gasping, words rushing out of his mouth without his permission, like it had been waiting for so long— “I like you. I really, really,  _ really, really like—”  _

Ouma shut him up with another kiss. Momota was breathless, just following the Supreme Leader’s direction, closing his eyes as he let himself get lost in the feeling of lips against lips and tongue against tongue and the next thing he knew he was backing up, the back of his knees hitting the edge of the bed, falling onto the mattress with an  _ oomph  _ as Ouma loomed before him, beautiful and strong, watching him with hooded eyes that were filled with want and need, and Momota felt paralyzed, his chest moving up and down with each panting breath, feeling hot all over for some  _ goddamn reason he couldn’t quite fathom— _

“Boop,” the tension suddenly eased when he felt Ouma’s finger on his nose, catching him off guard. He frowned, still a little dazed and confused, and then disappointed—  _ so disappointed! —  _ when Kokichi collapsed on the bed beside him instead of pinning him down, covering his face with his arm as his mouth burst into giggles, his body shaking along with him. 

“This is so messed up,” Ouma whispered ruefully. Momota felt the dread come back on full strength, as he slowly realized just happened, what he  _ wanted  _ to happen. Momota felt his cheeks turn bright red in embarrassment, and he covered his face and groaned. What… What the hell did he just do? He kissed Ouma! He shouldn’t have! They’re both alphas, and Ouma must find it weird, but he kissed him back and then pushed him down the bed, so Ouma must feel attracted to him as well, but what if he just got carried away, what if he finds Momota weird, what if he thinks Momota was one of those creepy fucks with weird fetishes— 

“Hey, wanna hear a secret, Momo-chan?” All Momota’s attention was suddenly back on Ouma as he watched a playful smirk dawn on those lips, his voice but a mere whisper. Staring at him from this angle, of the two of them lying side by side on the bed, Momota couldn’t help but admire Ouma’s beauty, as cheesy as that sounded. He didn’t seem to be freaking out just as much as Momota was, which was probably a good thing— at least one of them was able to handle themselves, at least. 

“Y-Yeah?” Momota asked, shifting closer. Ouma’s smirk widened into a grin as he said the words Momota had been wanting to hear since the first time the insolent brat punched and took away his jacket, more than a year ago. 

“I really really like you, too.” 

Momota’s heart skipped a beat. He didn’t know whether he should be happy or concerned or horrified or whatnot. Ouma liked him too… then it meant he wasn’t the only weird one! There was a relief in that realization, but it was followed with the hollow question of ‘now what’? Momota confessed he liked Ouma, and Ouma confessed he liked him back— but it’s not like they could just decide to be in a relationship, could they? It’s not that easy. Momota’s hand fisted itself on the bedsheets as he considered this. They couldn’t be together  _ together.  _ People will talk. What would his grandparents say? Does Ouma even want to be in a relationship like this in the first place? 

(A part of Momota really, really,  _ really  _ wanted to, but—) 

“Do you… should we—we probably shouldn’t...” Momota hesitated, his hand letting go of the bedsheets in favor of reaching slowly towards Ouma. he wondered if the conflict was evident in his expression, because Ouma wiped the grin off his face, expression turning blank as he studied Momota. Their fingers touched, and Momota swallowed hard, his face burning. 

“... you’re adorable,” Ouma murmured at his ear, before he pulled him into a kiss again. 

* * *

**[video003.mp4]**

_ “Same dynamic couples? You mean betas marrying other betas, don’t you?” the robot asked cluelessly.  _

_ There was a shake in the camera, followed by a disembodied, calm voice telling someone, “Perhaps Kiibo-kun wasn’t the best person to ask this question.” But the robot in the video was already leaning in, eager to learn more.  _

_ “Is that not it? I have to admit I still don’t know much about the social constucts of human society, and I am still learning everyday, but if you please explain to me what you meant, perhaps I can craft a better response!” Kiibo eagerly interjected. There was a pause as the interviewers seem to ponder it, before the calm voice spoke again.  _

_ “By same dynamic couples we mean alphas dating another alpha, or omegas dating other omegas, that sort of thing.”  _

_ “Oh!” The robot looked a little confused. “Why would you ask me my opinion about them? Isn’t it a very personal thing? Why should I get to have a say in who dates who? It’s their life, isn’t it? The professor has told me prying into other people’s affairs is very rude.”  _

_ A beat of silence.  _

_ “You know… you might actually have a point there, Kiibo-kun.”  _

_ Kiibo expression brightened, as he placed his arms on his hips. “Of course!”   
_

**[PAUSE]**

View next video? 

**[YES]** [NO] 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are appreciated! -Rev


End file.
